Recruiting Skyla Stine
by shadowcat012
Summary: "The thing is, I didn't ask for an offer. I didn't ask for any favors. I didn't even ask for you to come out here after all these years to see me. And pay attention, big brother, because this is something I want made extremely clear. I am not nor will I ever join Starfleet." Birthday gift for xdreamlessknightx. Rated M for language purposes only.


**Recruiting Skyla Stine**

 _Part One_

* * *

2254Nov06

The rubber of his boots squeaked loudly on the mopped floor as he came to a halt. The lamp over the admin's desk shut off, the small corner of the entrance left in shadow, Christopher Pike guessed he must have arrived after hours despite his attempts throughout the day to arrive early.

A short exhalation of breath flared his nostrils as he resigned himself to the act of exploring the building on his own.

He followed a single-bulb-lighted passage to two different doorways: one that was open and shed in a natural blue light across the floor, and the other that was closed off and appeared to lead out to a quiet warehouse. When a burst of laughter erupted from behind the second, Christopher stepped up to peer through the smudged glass pane. As his eyes searched for life, a short cough from the first room distracted him.

The soft glow of the ascending evening washed over the room through the shuttered windows and bathed over his form as he quietly entered. Desks, some neat, others scattered, spanned the room in horizontal rows. Schematic maps and (some torn) blue prints hung haphazardly off of the dry walls.

A flare of tasseled red contrasted at the center. He found her, shoulders hunched, head clutched in one hand while the other padded furiously on a bright screen laid flat on the table before her.

Before he could get a word in, the door behind him pulled open, the suction peeling loud in the nearly hypnotic silence. A bedraggled fellow entered. Shirt untucked and dirty, boots scuffed, and face ragged with sweat and years in harsh condition, he squeezed into the door frame alongside him.

"Boss," His voice practically wheezed; the sound of his moistened throat audible as his mouth slowly closed around each word. "Me an' the guys are headed out now."

"Your reports?" The woman questioned her voice coarse as if she'd spent a great portion of the day yelling. Her fingers kept tapping.

"Already sen' t'you," He paused to quickly swallow then breathe. "Signed by all of us. Randy said he wanted-"

Her head shot up instantly.

The dark hue of the evening allowed most of her face to be shadowed so that the frown on her lips, the slant of her brow and the hardness of her eyes were pronounced.

"You let me handle Randy."

Christopher raised his eyebrows.

The man beside him simply closed his mouth, nodded his acknowledgement.

The woman's hazel eyes slid to Christopher for a mere fraction of a second before she redirected herself to the tablet again.

"Have a good one, Kavo."

The man muttered something under his breath before sliding back out of the doorway.

Again, the suction peeled loudly before, weighted, the door slowly drifted shut behind his departure. As it stuck back in place, Christopher waited for the woman to acknowledge him once more. He had learned patience in all his years of life- not necessarily mastering it, but he considered himself a mighty pupil. The woman, he knew, practiced very little by choice, therefore would definitely be the first to cave.

Her fingers continued their furious padding, her second hand dropped from her head to rest on her lap.

"Our office is closed." Her voice rang out in the silence. "Curtis Dornan left an hour ago. If you're a supplier, I'd give him a call after eight tomorrow morning."

Christopher dropped his chin to his chest.

Of course she never did completely let him win.

"I'm not a supplier, Skyla." He spoke evenly. The gravel tenor of his voice froze her to the spot.

The skin on her chin dotted as her mouth twisted to the side. Sighing, she threw her back against the chair, crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her eyes to him. The hazel orbs moved up and down his form, analyzing, scrutinizing every detail on his person.

"No," She conceded, voice low. "You're not a supplier, not in that _snazzy uniform_. But why else would you be here?"

His grip on the cap nested under his arm tightened.

"I thought you had your own office." He tried again.

"I do."

"Why aren't you working in it with the proper lighting?"

"I prefer being in the open with my workers and there's nothing wrong with the lighting in this room."

"Oh," Christopher reached out a hand and flipped the switch at his left. A string of lights burst to life overhead, causing a slight strain on his eyes. But, when he saw her face crumple in pained agitation, he knew a slight strain would always be worth it. "Good to know."

Slamming her hands on the tabletop, Skyla jumped to her feet.

"What are you doing here?"

With the proper lighting, he could now see the smudges of grime on her pale curved face and on the broken skin of her long hands. The once vibrant red of her hair, under the bright light had become a stringy, oily, pale orange. Her stance and the ignited fire in her eyes conveyed no loss of strength and the capability to _almost_ kick his ass. But the dark crescents framing her eyes and the slight tremble of her defined arms revealed the truth. She was tired. Dog-tired. And on the brink of defeat.

"I'm here to see you." He answered plainly. When she gave no inclination of believing, let alone responding, he continued. "It _is_ the sixth of November today."

Skyla narrowed her eyes.

"It was also the sixth a year ago."

A heavy silence fell upon them. Christopher momentarily heard a high-pitched tone ringing in his right ear in effect from it. A tumult of excuses, of defense against her cutting remark, bubbled within him and almost escaped his lips.

However, with the weariness so visible on her features, he knew it would do no good.

"I guess another cake should be ordered then." He spoke finally.

She crossed her arms again. Stared him down, unconvinced.

"You'd need to order another five."

A beat.

Then.

"Well, you look like you could use the extra weight."

Visibly offended, she threw her arms in the air before dropping them to plant firmly on her hips.

He smiled.

* * *

 _2231Mar18_

 _The image blurred. His fingers curled around the small knob, turning it so that with each click the vision slowly came into focus._

 _Tongue firmly clamped between teeth, the young boy pulled away from the scope, blinking rapidly, to stare out the window. He'd been searching for it all morning, the Federation station just outside of the planet's atmosphere._

 _'I'll be just a glance away.'_

 _His naked eyes surveyed the predawn sky. There was no twinkling light as there were for passing satellites. The only way his father could be just a 'glance away' was if he'd been transferred to a position on the moon. But no, Billy Steel's parents got that post._

 _"Whatever," He mumbled to himself, pushing back his father's words and inputting the command to save the image on the computer._

 _He was young, a kid, he could admit that. But he was not stupid. Family always had the option to accompany a member of Starfleet when transferred to another station. Family, he'd overheard once, was a huge selling point for the federation. Unity, loyalty, and all that other junk._

 _Meaning his parents chose this eight-month separation on purpose._

 _The printer in the corner of his room whirred to life at the same moment the patter of bare feet on glossed wood reached his ears._

 _He turned to holler that his door was locked. But a sudden bang followed by a collection of thumps had him rolling his eyes._

 _A short whimper from outside the room could be faintly heard._

 _He groaned._

* * *

2254Nov06

"You can't just show up whenever you feel like it." She spoke around the last bite of her burger. "I have a job and work that needs to be done for that job before the start of each morning."

"Sounds like you keep busy," Christopher mused dryly. He lifted a hand for the waitress to take their plates.

After convincing her that he wasn't going to leave her alone until she at least sat down and had a meal with him to talk, Skyla led him to the closest thing to a five-star restaurant for miles. Armeda's Roadside Diner.

"Running a site of twenty employees and over a hundred contractors, yes, busy tends to be a great part of my day." She answered while scraping up the last of the ketchup on her plate with the very last fry.

When the young waitress leaned in to take the plate, Skyla glanced at her momentarily in disbelief.

Why was the waitress – Leona, her name was Leona, she knew this because she stopped by this diner every single day after work – listening to this man who'd never been here before in his life over her?

Grabbing a napkin and roughly wiping off her fingers, it took a moment to decide to leave this alone. Her frustration wasn't with the waitress working part time after high school, it was with the man sitting across from her. After wiping her mouth, Skyla tossed the used napkin to the side and stared at Christopher with more vigor than when he first showed up.

His eyebrows twitched upwards; hers lowered in response.

Slowly, he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and took a generous sip.

Leona surprised her again by returning with a slice of pie on a plate and slipping it onto the table before her. She smiled apologetically to Skyla first, then brightly to Christopher before leaving them alone.

"They didn't have a cake on the menu," Christopher said by way of explanation.

Shaking her head, Skyla ran her hands up her face and raked her fingers back through her hair.

"Why are you here, Chris?"

"I was in town."

"You in New Mexico; I highly doubt that." She unraveled the silverware Leona had left, all the while waiting for him to explain, silently daring him to lie again. He shrugged almost helplessly before looking away.

Dropping the utensils to the table, her hands fell to the edge of the booth she sat on, gripping the cushion as her slender frame tensed.

"Either Mom or Dad sent you. And since Dad isn't exactly the worrying type, I'm leaning more towards Mom."

Sighing, Christopher fixed his blue eyes on his younger sister and held. There was no more going around it.

Curses flew from her mouth at the same time both fists punched the seat beneath her.

"I'm not sixteen anymore, Christopher. Stop fucking treating me like I am."

His expression hardened.

"When you stop acting that age, I'll start treating you different."

"No," Skyla cut through hotly, her body coiled over the table, ready to reach out and strike at any moment. "You don't get to talk to me that way. It has been years since we last spoke. You know nothing of my life or who I am now. You're the one who left for your precious Starfleet and severed all ties, not me."

Snatching up a fork, she stabbed the pie's crust, piercing into the soft skin of the apple slices within, tore it away and jammed it into her moistened mouth. The heat of her glare had the starched collar of his uniform feeling awfully tight around his throat.

Her nostrils flared as she chewed the sugar-dipped fruit. Hazel eyes dropped to the badge proudly pinned on his right breast and narrowed in scrutiny. She would let him stew in his guilty conscience, but on his own time.

"New Mexico, Lieutenant," She urged before taking another bite of pie.

"It's Captain, now."

Her eyes rolled. "Congratulations."

Leaning his elbows forward on the table, Christopher looked to her imploringly. "Skyla, I'm not going to apologize for joining Starfleet-"

"I'm not asking for an apology-"

"You deserved more than what you were left with-"

"I was just fine-"

"Our parents did the best they could."

"You wouldn't really know that now would you?" Holding his stare, Skyla took another defiant bite of pie.

Truth be told, it was never her parents she was mad at (though at times they didn't really help), and she simply wanted to scream at him it was him she'd been mad at for years.

She had been his responsibility not theirs. He left, what was she to do with herself? After so long of looking up to him, following him around like a well-loved puppy, trying to emulate his drive at school and enthusiasm in extracurricular activities, for him to suddenly disappear, who was she to be if not Christopher Pike's ambitious younger sister? The girl exactly like her older brother who made the Pike family proud?

But, that was an argument they'd gone back and forth over and over and over again, when he used to try. When she used to care.

"Alright," He spoke, voice dropping a decibel. The seriousness was finally there in his eyes as he leaned towards her. "You want the truth?"

Skyla made a show of shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "I've only been asking for it since you got here."

He lifted his hand above the table and used his index finger to point at her.

"I want you to join Starfleet."

Her eyes studied his face, dropped to his pointing finger, then shot back up to his face. She smiled. A laugh escaped her throat and she leaned back.

"I've seen this image before, just give me a second and it'll come to me."

"Skyla."

"Just wait."

Dropping his hand, Christopher turned his head to the side and stared out the window in exasperation. Skyla ignored his silence.

"Back in school, right? History class? Had to be. Just put on a blue blazer, a spunky hat and voila!" She snapped her fingers then finished the last bite of pie.

"Don't do that with me." Her brother snapped, turning back to her. His controlled mask was quickly slipping into humiliation and frustration. "Don't. I'm here with an offer."

"The thing is," She cut in. "I didn't ask for an offer. I didn't ask for any favors. I didn't even ask for you to come out here after all these years to see me. And pay attention, big brother, because this is something I want made extremely clear. I am not nor will I ever join Starfleet. So why don't you just take that up the ass and shove it."

Quickly standing from the table, she walked brusquely out of the diner. The door slid shut with a soft jingle that was a pitch lower than the one that went off when people entered.

Eyes drawing shut, he sighed and wished he'd approached her more tactfully.

Throwing the door open to her car, Skyla fumed and wished he'd started with the truth. Then, she wouldn't have wasted an evening nor had that small piece of hope that he really had been there just to see her. Her step faltered in her decent into the vehicle.

Hazel eyes peered up towards the diner window, third booth from the entrance. He still sat, back ramrod straight, hands reaching for the mug of coffee.

She should know better than that.

He was _Captain_ Christopher Pike now.

And she was Skyla Stine. The woman who did not have the time nor the patience to deal with the bullshit of Starfleet that poured through _Captain_ Pike's mouth.


End file.
